


Make Me a Match

by ilokheimsins



Series: Inceptiversary 2017 Bingo [8]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, M/M, Mal plays matchmaker, Pre Arthur/Eames, while Arthur and Eames are bodyguards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: Arthur and Eames are Mal's bodyguards and she's constantly trying to matchmake them.  This time it might actually take.





	Make Me a Match

**Author's Note:**

> something out of 25 for Inceptiversary 2017 bingo 
> 
> I don't even know what number I'm on anymore.

“Pish, Arthur, you can sit with Eames.  I will not burst into flames while you do,” Mal tuts and manhandles Arthur down into the seat across from Eames.  The seat at a table in a somewhat dimly lit corner of a fancy restaurant.  A table that also has candles and rose petals strewn across it like it’s supposed to be romantic or something.

“Mal,” Arthur starts, a lecture about how danger lurks everywhere and a dimly lit setting with lots of potential hiding places – like tables with floor length fucking tablecloths – is only a heightened danger.

The waiter interrupts him before he gets to though.

“The wine for the couple,” he announces and neatly pours Arthur and Eames even glassfuls.

“We’re not a couple,” Arthur tells him.

“Darling,” Eames says, feigning hurt with a soft sound, “is this your way of telling me you’re breaking up with me?”

“We’re not a couple,” Arthur tells him, too.

Eames heaves a wobbly sigh, hiccoughing slightly like he might cry, and Arthur rolls his eyes.  He lets Eames take his hand though and he watches as Eames taps out “seven” in Morse with his thumb.  Eames flicks his gaze just behind Arthur’s left shoulder and Arthur nonchalantly pushes himself out of his seat.

“Mal, no more matchmaking,” Arthur scolds lightly.  “You should sit here and I’ll take my usual spot after I return from the bathroom.”

Mal pouts, one cheek puffing out like a chipmunk’s, but she seats herself elegantly in Arthur’s newly vacated seat.  Arthur winds his way around the tables, mostly empty but some hosting couples speaking in low voices to one another as they carve into their food.  He takes the slight right towards the bathroom and lashes out, quick as a whip, with the fork he’d palmed up his sleeve at the space of shadow slightly lighter than the rest that shuffles to move out of his way.

The man grunts as he dodges Arthur’s strike and then lunges forward to try and tackle Arthur.  He sends them both crashing into a table, silverware and wineglasses spraying off as they collide.  Arthur knees the man, swearing when his knee meets with the hard plastic of a cup at the crotch.  Suddenly the man is being slammed to the side by Eames, who uses his bulk to crush him to the floor.  The grip the man had on Arthur’s suit tears it as he gets taken down and Arthur palms sadly at the ripped patch.

Eames rips the balaclava off the mystery man and Arthur peeks over Eames shoulder to see an average looking white male, likely early to mid-30s, trying to buck Eames off of him.  He feels Mal’s arm entwine around his right arm as she peers down at the scene.

“Mal,” the man says pleadingly.  “You’ve got to tell your guards to lay off.  They’re keeping us apart.  You won’t even let me see the children, let alone you.”

“I do not know who you are,” Mal says icily, drawing herself into the persona that earned her the name the Scarlet Queen.  She’s regal as she straightens and throws her shoulders back, pure murder in her eyes as she looks down on the stalker.

“Eames,” Mal commands without a single order and Eames nods.  He hauls the man up and Arthur moves forward to ziptie him.  The waiter is calling 911 in the back and Mal sweeps back to their table. Arthur watches her sit, the only thing giving away her fear at the situation is the ever so slight tightness between her shoulder blades.

“You are still sitting with Eames,” she tells them over her shoulder, though her voice wobbles slightly.

“The best,” Eames tells Mal.  He turns to Arthur, “She is the best, isn’t she, darling.”

“We’re still not a couple,” Arthur says as he accepts a glass of water from the waiter.

“No, pet,” Eames says, “but we could be.”

Arthur takes a long, studying look at Eames as he downs his water.  He muses on the last three years, where they went from sniping at each other to being able to trust each other no matter what, and says “Well, Mr. Eames, we could be.”

The look Eames gives him is absolutely worth the gagging sounds their prisoner makes.

 


End file.
